


Can We Start It Over?

by OtherThingsInHead



Category: Javier Pena - Fandom, Narcos (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Mild Language, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherThingsInHead/pseuds/OtherThingsInHead
Summary: A lot has changed since the accident. Most of these changes suck like the constant, dull pain in his guts or the fact that the days pass without purpose. But somehow the series of these changes have opened up a whole new world for the DEA agent and put his heart into action.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Can We Start It Over?

Time is particularly slow now. Javier’s eyes constantly shifting from the clock to the door. His crave for a cigar is getting stronger with every passing minute, but the box is laying untouched on the coffee table. Sure, it would calm his mind, but you can knock on the door at any moment and he knows how seriously you take the doctor’s instructions. It’s just so unlike you to be late…

Knock, knock, knock, knock. 

Your eyes only skimming his sitting figure on the couch as you storm through the door and put two heavy bags of groceries onto the kitchen table. 

“Sorry, I’m late, I had to fill out a report. Messina’s up my ass since—" since I almost got you killed. You barely set foot in the room and the air is already tense with your unsaid words. Tense and thick with shame and you need to drag a good amount of this dense air into your lungs to keep your heart beating. "How are you?" 

Javier’s body is strong but there’s pain in every one of his movement as he’s hobbling towards you. One hand is casually laying on his hip, the other is supporting him by the table. Damn, you hate to see him like this!

He must notice the remorseful look in your eyes, thus the mushy smile on his face, regardless of all the struggle of holding himself on his feet. He wants you to feel less guilty and though you are grateful for him you would rather feel all ashamed and miserable like you deserve. 

"I’m good, Y/N,” his tone is soft, eyes boring into yours as if he’s pouring his own calm into you. It works. You nod with a fragile smile and dig up a deliciously steaming box from a bag.

“Good. I hope you’re hungry!" 

That’s how it goes since he is back from the hospital. You come over to him in the morning before work and in the evening after work, trying to keep him occupied, do the laundry, bring food, keep the place and his wound clean in a hope he will feel better. Or more like that that you will feel better.

The worst is when you change the dressing on the wound. That is when you have to face the damage you have done. Clenched jaw, stiff chest and shaky breathes. Doesn’t seem like it, but Javier kind of enjoys those moments. Not the painful part of course but there is something about being taken care by you. Something engaging and exciting.

Yes, he is excited. He shouldn’t be though. No other relationship is allowed than friendship between partners at the DEA yet, he can’t keep his stupid heart from melting whenever you cast your beautiful smile at him. 

So he can’t help but adore these moments with you. He savors and memorizes the clumsy touches of your fingers as you are fumbling with the bandage around his torso or the image of your lip getting trapped between your teeth as you are concentrating, trying to get the tape to stick. 

He hadn’t completely figured out these feelings, but they are more tender then they should be. And definitely more passionate. Especially at nights, in the dark when the sinful feeling of longing is thriving within him, pushing the sweetest memories of you into his mind and his hands under the blanket. 

After the dinner, you pile up some pillows behind Javier and help him halfway up into a sitting position on his bed. The room is dark and only the night lamp shines its light on the wound so you can focus all your attention on it. Carefully, he rolls up the hem of his shirt to expose the white patch clinging on his skin.

The gun had struck him just a little bit above the edge of his pelvic bone. The doctor said he was lucky to get off with a minor bruising like that. The bullet could have easily shatter his bone into pieces if it hits him from a smaller distance. 

You usually try to distract him with small stories and bad jokes, talking about practically anything while cleaning the skin around the stitches. The process is torturous for both of you and keeping your minds busy helps a lot. But now you are silent. Silent and stiff.

"Is everything okay?”

“Yeah-hm just… had a rough day, you know.”

“Messina? She knows it wasn’t your fault she shouldn’t be so hard on you.”

“No, it’s not her. It’s… I just had a rough day, okay?”

Shit! You sounded more offended than you wanted to and he knows you better than to fall for such an obvious lie. He grabs your wrist and tilts his head, glaring at you with a nagging look in his eyes.

“It’s Carillo,” you confess with a shrug. “He… He is still mad I fucked up this operation.”

“You didn’t know it was—”

“Exactly!” Your voice is not loud nor judgemental but it helds a capricious tone and when you cast a quick glance at him, you see understanding in his eyes. He knows what he just put his finger on.

Carillo and Javier have been keeping you in the shadows from the first day you arrived. In the eyes of the Colonel, you are just a goddamned yankee from the states with no chips on the table and Javier—well, hell knows what is the matter with the stubborn head of that grumpy gringo.

“I’m your partner, Javi. You should have told me.”

“You didn’t tell me about your intel either. If I knew you are planning on a one-man mission—”

“If you knew about it you’d send me for some shitty warrant to the embassy. I didn’t come to Colombia to sit on my ass while you and your cop friends are doing the job.”

It is out. It is out and it sounds so wrong, as if you blame him for what happened when it was all your fault. The room is getting smaller and you have to bury your face in your palms, take a deep breath and let all the emotions to sink.

“I was so stupid,” your voice is muffled and hoarse.

“No. No, you’re right. You just wanted to do something.”

“Yeah, and I got a goddamn gun pressed against my forehead. If you didn’t come after me… I-I-I almost get myself killed and…,” your voice crack and sob burst from your mouth.

“Y/N, por favor.”

“And you, Javi. I-If you were dea-I… I-I still ha-have n-nightmares." Your whole body is trembling at the horror of the thought and tears like a waterfall, cascading down on your cheek.

"Hey! I didn’t die, we’re both alive!” You hear him soothing but you can’t stop crying until he sits up and take one of your hands, pulling it towards him so he can feel your palm flat against his chest. 

His grip is strong, almost painfully strong but you need it. You need to feel something to hold on, to drag yourself out from the false imaginations of events that never happened. The steady, unusually rapid beating of his heart is your lodestar and you can gradually narrow your focus to the softness of his skin, how warm and humid it feels under your palm and how easy it is to be lost in the intoxicating scent. It’s like a drug, making you want more and more of him until you are ready to sacrifice anything just to feel him closer. Much, much closer.

That’s not going to happen. Not that you haven’t always considered him handsome, but his jackass behavior and your common sense have helped holding back the affection you felt for him. You didn’t fight your way up to the DEA for nothing. You can’t put your reputation at risk. Not for a fucked-up romance with a womanizer. 

"Carillo was right,” you sniff, rubbing your eyes with your free hand to dry up the tears and get yourself together while trying to ignore the disturbingly pleasant feeling of his thumb stroking slow circles on your wrist. “Coming here was a mistake. I’ll always be an outsider.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffs, he knows how much you care about these people and how hard you work to make this country safer for them.

“Javi, I… I-I don’t even speak the language,” you say and chuckle as a soft, ironic giggle bubble up inside you.

His thumb caressing your skin is so overwhelming, you need to avoid looking into his eyes for you are afraid you would lost in the darkness of them. But you can feel the searing gaze on your face, making you feel all hot and flustered, sweating like a virgin on the wedding night. What the hell is happening? 

"Yeah, but… you have me,” he purrs softly like a cat, lips parted deliciously at the end, head lowered, eyes searching for yours to meet and there’s no way avoiding his gaze any longer.

His eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips and back again and you feel a fucking thunderstorm raging in your chest as you fall into the kiss like it’s gravity. 

His lips are blazing hot, burning with the flames of some unquenchable thirst for tasting every part of your mouth as he delves himself into it. Everything is happening so fast as your whole world crumbles around you with the kiss. There’s no time to think, no reason to stop. Your hand slithers from his chest to cradle the vast shoulder and you feel his strong fingers curving behind your neck, holding you firmly against his lips while you are kissing him back with equal fire and force.

The air is humid, filled with the wet sounds of the heated kiss and with the stifled noises escaping from you with rapid breaths as you are trying to suck enough oxygen into your lungs. 

You need a break to breathe.

Your lips parting away from his but you let your head lull against his forehead, trying to regain control over your erratic breath or at least quell your mind a little bit.

"Javi,” your stomach drops and you are suddenly snatched out from the delirious storm of emotions as you flutter your eyes open and see fresh blood leaking from the wound. 

“It’s ok, I’ll be fine,” he pants and catches your lips between his again. 

“Javi, I… w-we need to… mmh J-Javi, the w-wound… fuck!”

Your weak attempts of protesting are getting consumed by the heavenly sensation of open-mouthed kisses trailing along your jaw and down to your neck. 

Then a painful hiss of breath slips from his lips.

“Ok, we need to fix this now,” you insist with more determination than before but he can’t make himself to ease the grip on your neck. It’s like his sweetest dream is coming true and he is not ready to wake up from it.

“Javi!" 

"I just… don’t want it to disappear,” he says, his half-lidded eyes are dark and heavy, lips glistening with the memory of the heated moments you just have shared. 

He stares at you and feel a twinge of unease. Your eyes are hard to read, and your silence is puzzling.

“I have nightmares too,” his gaze drops to your hands, chest rises with a deep breath before he continues. “When they said you’re in the building I… I didn’t know if I’m going to make it in time,” his voice is small, almost wavering.

“I’m so sorry, Javier. I’m sorry you had to save me but it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t try to–”

“Protect you?” 

Your raise an eyebrow up at him, you can’t believe he thinks you are just a helpless princess amongst hungry monsters.

“It’s not your job to protect me,” you say softly but hurt hangs on every syllable.

“I can’t help myself,” he chuckles. He has already sacrificed a lot for catching Escobar and he is ready to sacrifice even more. Anything. Anything, but you. 

He brushes his fingertips along your jawline and tips your head so you can see the honest sparkling in his eyes.

“I have feelings for you.” 

Your jaw drops open at his words and your heart begins to slam frantically against your ribcage. He can’t just say something like that and shake the whole world around you. You feel like you’re spiralling.

“I don’t really know what are these feelings but… they make me feel different. They make me believe I can be more, make me want to be a better person. And when I see the guilt in your eyes, see you suffering because of me it’s… it destroys me.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest and your eyes are glassy from the tears you are holding back. You have no idea what to say to a confession like this. You have never denied the physical attraction but you’ve never thought about it further.

“Javi, I don’t… I—”

“I just want you to know you don’t have to feel bad about what happened. We both chose a wrong path but… we got a chance to make it up,” his lips curl up to a faint but genuine smile making your heart swell with happiness. Or maybe affection?

The air between you grows full and magnetic, his thumb rubbing across your cheek, smearing the wetness along its way. 

“So what do you think? Can we start it over?”

“We should try it at least,” you sniff. “And we definitely should find out those feelings you’ve talked about…” 

His eyes sparkling as he leans forward, slowly closing the gap between your lips when you press a finger of objection upon his mouth. 

“…after I fixed this bloody wound of yours.”

Playfully, you cock an eyebrow at him with a wide smile, watching in awe as the tip of his tongue trails a wet line along his lower lip before he speaks.

“Anything you want, partner.”


End file.
